


nothing's gonna stop us now

by bevioletskies



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Fluff, Growing Up Together, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-06-23 11:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15605307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevioletskies/pseuds/bevioletskies
Summary: In Yondu’s defense, when he decided to take Peter on his first real Ravager job to a recently invaded planet, he wasn’t exactly expecting to come back with an orphan girl, nor was he expecting to keep her around. But now, Peter is determined to be Gamora’s best friend, partner-in-crime, and maybe, eventually...a little something more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/post/176752858903/heres-a-petergamora-prompt-for-you-an-au-where) anonymous fic prompt I received on Tumblr, with some very minor changes.
> 
> Fic title is from the song [Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now](https://open.spotify.com/track/2vEQ9zBiwbAVXzS2SOxodY?si=V1KqfUAwTvWI5VzJ8A4D-w) by Starship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for very brief mentions of blood, injuries, and death (as Yondu and Peter are seeing the aftermath of Thanos's attack on Gamora's home planet in the beginning).

“Do I _hafta_ go on this job with you? Tullk said he was gonna show me an’ Kraglin how to throw knives today,” Peter whined as he got into the co-pilot’s seat. It was his first mission, and though he wasn’t too interested in the mission itself, he had to admit: getting to sit in the front of a ship wasn’t something he got to do very often, and for good reason, considering he was just eight years old and could barely see over the console, nor did his feet touch the ground. Still, the allure of all the buttons he could push and the screens he could touch was too strong to resist.

“Tullk said _what_?” Yondu exploded, slamming his fist on his armrest. All his little toys and knick-knacks rattled dangerously in response. “You don’t got the coordination to be throwin’ knives around, Quill, what the hell was he thinkin’?”

“I dunno, but it sounded cool.” Peter sank into the chair, sulking. Maybe he’d made the wrong choice, after all. “Where’re we goin’, anyways?”

“Somewhere none of us ever been,” Yondu replied cryptically, leaning forward to activate the ship’s controls. “This planet, it got attacked somethin’ bad a couple weeks ago. Old civilization, y’know? And them hidden artifacts of theirs are now unprotected. Been lookin’ to make a trade with the Collector for a while now ‘cos he pays real good, and this _might_ jus’ get his attention.”

“We’re gonna raid a planet?” Peter looked uneasy about the idea. He had been expecting something small - a trade under the table, a minor robbery - a warm-up mission, so to speak. This sounded _big_ , far beyond their capabilities as a twosome, not to mention a little immoral, even for Ravagers. “But...what about the people? Are there people _left_?”

Yondu smiled sadly, though the genuine remorse in his expression was ruined by his admittedly awful teeth. “No, boy. As far as we know...there ain’t a single Zehoberei left alive.”

The rest of the trip was unusually silent; even though Peter had only been with the Ravagers for six months, Yondu had gotten pretty used to his noise - if it wasn’t Peter’s Walkman blasting at full volume, he was usually doing his best to talk the ear off anyone who would listen (and sometimes, even those who _weren’t_ listening). Although it was the kind of job that Yondu kept himself emotionally detached from, he couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy about what he was exposing Peter to. Did he _really_ want to bring him to a desecrated planet, let him see the true horrors of what - and _who_ \- was out there? Then again, if he’d taken Peter where he was “supposed” to be, what he had been paid to do...Yondu shuddered. No, this was the lesser of two evils. It had to be.

Once they touched down on the surface of the planet, somewhere in its once-glorious capital city, Peter seemed to have recovered from his sour mood, peering around curiously while he kept his fingers steady over the taser on his hip (a gift from Yondu after he had been with them for a month). A lump formed in Peter’s throat at the sight of the decaying bodies strewn about, pushed up against each other in piles, like whoever had been here had shoved them aside like dirt.

“Don’t look, boy,” Yondu warned. “We just gotta get to that sacred temple o’ theirs up there, scout around, and head back, tell them boys if it’s any good, if it’s worth comin’ back. You hear me?”

Peter exhaled shakily. “Yeah, I heard you - ”

“Hello?”

Peter and Yondu slowly turned around, astonished to see a trembling little girl crawl out from under a pile of bodies, brandishing a switchblade in front of her, looking uncertain about what to do with it. She looked to be around Peter’s age, with vibrant green skin and dark red hair, her clothes reduced to tatters, her skin scraped and mottled with wounds both aged and brand new.

“What the - ”

“Who are you?” The girl’s voice wobbled. “Did you kill my mother?”

Yondu approached her first, crouching so they were eye-to-eye. He held out his hands to show her they were empty, though her gaze flickered to the yaka arrow holstered on his hip. “No, girl, we ain’t the ones who did this,” he said, extraordinarily gentle. “Are you the only one left?”

She looked entirely overwhelmed by the question, lowering her arm more out of exhaustion than confirmation of her safety, and tucked the switchblade back into her waistband. “I...I don’t know,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to - ” Peter began, but promptly stopped talking when Yondu turned to glare him into submission.

“Lookin’ for survivors,” Yondu lied easily, straightening up. “How’d you do it?”

The girl unbuttoned what was left of her jacket, revealing an alarming amount of blood smeared across the front of her top. Peter recoiled in disgust. “There was someone...when they were shot, they fell on me. I covered myself in their blood, laid still, and pretended to be dead. I didn’t move for three days because...because I thought they were coming back.” Her dark, liquid eyes widened in sudden fear. “They...they aren’t coming back, are they?”

“We better get you outta here before they do,” Peter said, glancing around nervously. Yondu promptly yanked him aside before the girl could accept, prodding him in the chest.

“What’re you talkin’ about, boy?” Yondu hissed.

“We can’t just leave her here, Yondu, she’s just a kid, like _me_ ,” Peter protested quietly. “And if her mom’s dead, and everyone else is dead...it won’t be long ‘fore she dies, too. We gotta help.”

Yondu let out a sigh of utter exhaustion, knowing once an idea popped into Peter’s mind, it was nearly impossible to get him to think about anything else. He had a feeling Peter would never forgive him if he left the girl behind. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he was right - no one had come looking for survivors, assuming there _were_ none. She was going to die alone if they didn’t do something about it.

“Fine, but she ain’t stayin’ forever,” Yondu grumbled, turning back towards the girl. She was watching them curiously, trying her best to pretend she hadn’t heard every word. “You’re comin’ with us, alright? No use in leavin’ you here all alone. You got a name, girl?”

The girl finally smiled for what Yondu suspected was the first time in weeks, something warm and genuine and sweet, her eyes shining with tears of gratitude. “My name is Gamora.”

Gamora trailed after them on the way back, entirely unused to Yondu’s deliberate, heavy footfalls, or Peter’s oddly sporadic stride. By the time they got to the ship and waited for the landing dock to open for them, she tentatively positioned herself beside Peter. Yondu observed her for a moment, noting that she was a good few inches shorter and noticeably skinnier - though the last part he suspected had less to do with her development and more to do with her home planet’s situation. He had heard the horror stories, and wasn’t about to share them with Peter.

Once they were onboard, Peter immediately went digging for towels and rations, offering them to Gamora with a sunny smile. “I’m Peter, by the way. And that’s Yondu. We’re Ravagers.”

“ _I_ am a Ravager, _you_ are in training. And don’t you forget it, boy,” Yondu insisted, though without any real heat. “Sit down and buckle in ‘fore you get tossed around, both of ya.”

Yondu half-expected Peter to get into the co-pilot’s seat again, but he instead strapped himself and Gamora in on the bench seats in the back, continuing to smile toothily at her. She looked uncertain about whether to be charmed. “We’re headin’ back to the main ship, the Eclector. That’s where we live with all the others,” Peter explained. “There’s tons of names to remember and it’s kinda hard to figure out where everythin’ is, but I bet you’ll get the hang of it real fast.”

“She’s not getting the hang of _anything_ , Quill, we gonna take her to the Nova Corps so she can get a new family,” Yondu reminded him as he started up the ship. Peter scowled.

“But what if she wants to stay with us?” he demanded. Yondu turned around once more to look at them both. Peter’s face was scrunched up in defiance, while Gamora was watching their exchange in silent bemusement, nibbling delicately on the ration pack like she wasn’t allowed to eat the whole thing.

“Girl, the food’s all yours, you don’t gotta worry about manners around here,” Yondu said. She paused before taking a far more generous bite, her cheeks puffing out a little as she did. Shaking his head, Yondu turned his attention back to the ship’s console before he could be swayed by how strangely adorable she was, bringing them up in the air. Something told him this wasn’t going to go any other way but Peter’s.

* * *

Returning to the Eclector with no information and yet another child went about as smoothly as Yondu expected, with a generous handful of Ravagers immediately ripping into him for being “soft” the second they were back on board. “Knew you shoulda brought Ravagers with you instead of the kid! Now you come back with _two_ of ‘em!” one of them shouted over the growing commotion.

“Say that to me again, Retch, and I’m gonna cut your eye out. Then you can match with ol’ Vorker here!” Yondu growled, unceremoniously knocking the hecklers aside. He kept Peter and Gamora close to his coattails, their heads tucked underneath his arms. “Any of you lay a hand on either of ‘em, and it’s out the airlock for you, ya hear me?”

Despite the ship’s expansive size, there wasn’t a bedroom to spare, so Yondu had to unearth a slightly moldy mattress from an old storage closet and set it up on the floor of Peter’s room. He insisted it was only temporary, but he was already trying to recall the closest planet so he could find an appropriate store. He brought them both a proper dinner - well, as proper as it got on the Eclector - and promised to bring her clothes in the morning before shutting the door behind him.

Once Peter tossed aside his bag and jacket, he picked up his dinner plate and snuck a glance at Gamora. She was sitting cross-legged on her bare mattress, her eyes wide in mild terror. “The Ravagers ain’t gonna do nothin’ to you, don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. “And I’ll kick their butts if they do. No one’s gonna mess with you when me n’ Yondu are around.”

“They’re so...loud,” Gamora observed, carefully scraping up her first spoonful of food. “Are they always like that?”

“Yeah, but you get used to it,” Peter shrugged. “You _do_ wanna stay, don’t you?”

Gamora smiled faintly. “I...I think so. Are there other children living here?”

“Just one - Kraglin,” Peter replied, sinking down beside her. “He’s a little older, dunno how old. Yondu don’t like having kids around much - he says we’re always where we’re not s’posed to be - so if he lets you stay, it’s a _big_ deal.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble...but I don’t have anywhere else to go.” Gamora withdrew her switchblade again, this time just to idly twirl it between her fingers. It immediately caught Peter’s eye - it was beautiful, intricately carved silver, and inset with red gems that reflected what little light was in the room. When she noticed he was looking, she added, “My father gave this to me. He wasn’t home very much because he worked a lot, but he said he would teach me how to use it someday.”

“Tullk said he’s gonna teach me an’ Kraglin how to throw knives!” Peter said brightly. “Maybe he can teach you, too.”

Gamora’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do Ravagers...do, exactly?” she asked.

“Steal stuff, mostly.” Peter winced, looking at her sheepishly. “I know that sounds real bad, but - ”

“It sounds _horrible_ ,” Gamora agreed, wrinkling her nose. “But you and Yondu saved me. So Ravagers can’t be _that_ bad, right? And I want to trust you. I hope I can.”

“You can!” Peter held out his hand enthusiastically, his little finger extended in offer. “Pinky swear.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You do a pinky swear when you wanna promise someone somethin’,” Peter explained. He gently picked up her hand, noting that her palms were scraped raw and her fingers were calloused beyond compare, and intertwined their fingers together. “Like this.”

Gamora chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip as their hands hung in the air between them, hesitant. After a moment passed, she eventually smiled in return, squeezing her finger with his. “Okay,” she said softly. “Pinky swear.”

* * *

Yondu visited them briefly in the morning with a few newly-made sets of clothes from the Ravager’s tailor for Gamora and some breakfast for them both, correctly assuming that Gamora wasn’t ready to eat in the dining hall with the others. Gamora felt a little stiff as she pulled on the top and pants, both rendered in the signature Ravager red leather, but Peter proclaimed that she looked “awesome”.

After they ate, Peter couldn’t help but notice Gamora was still a little high-strung, so he offered to give her a tour of the ship, finishing off with a stop by the large windows in the very back that provided an incredible view. He picked up a medkit as well so he could properly tend to her wounds.

“I’ve never been anywhere but my home planet,” Gamora commented as they turned the corner. “We didn’t have much, but my parents always said we would get to take a trip someday. I guess that day will never come.”

“Well, bein’ with us, it’s like we’re on a trip _all_ the time,” Peter enthused. “And hey, we’re here.”

Gamora let out an audible gasp at the sight before her, the expanse of space twinkling at her in greeting from the windows, dancing in brilliant shades of blues, pinks, and purples. She walked right up to the glass in wonderment, pressing her open palms against its surface. The stars reflected back in her dark eyes, illuminating her entire face. Peter couldn’t help but smile, pleased to see that his favorite spot on the entire ship was on its way to becoming hers, too.

“The view of the Zehoberei sky was never this pretty,” Gamora said in a near-whisper, almost like she was witnessing something sacred. She knelt on the ground, her hands still on the window, and Peter followed suit, sitting close by.

“What happened?” The moment the words left Peter’s lips, he desperately wanted to take it back. It had taken him _weeks_ to even acknowledge the fact his mother was dead, there was no chance Gamora would want to tell him when they had only just picked her up yesterday.

“There was this man...Thanos.” Peter stared at her, surprised. Gamora swallowed thickly. “He heard that we were in trouble. The people that were s’posed to be taking care of us...they didn’t. We were unsafe in our own homes, and the air was really dirty, and we went so long without food that our bellies always hurt. He wanted to help.” Her gaze remained on the stars, though her eyes were glazed over like she wasn’t entirely present.

He turned away for a moment to open the medkit, taking out the antibacterial cream and the box of bandages. He held out an open palm, hoping she would understand. She looked at him confusedly before laying her hand down, wincing a little as her battered skin made contact with his. “How?”

“He killed half of my people,” she said hoarsely, watching as he cleaned her wound. He was still relatively new to treating injuries, but it was one of the first things Yondu had taught him so he would have something to do other than sit around and mourn. “But the ones that lived, they fought back. I don’t think anyone made it out after that. Just me. I...I might be the very last one.”

Peter felt the bile rising in his throat as he remembered the nightmare he’d seen just yesterday, trying to fathom how Gamora could have possibly lived through it and held on for so long. He let out slow, long breaths, trying to focus as he applied the cream on her cuts. “I dunno what to say...I’m sorry, Gamora. For what happened, but also for askin’. That was kinda mean of me.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Gamora said, smiling weakly at him. “I don’t want to forget them. My people, my mother and father. I want to remember. Talking about it will help me remember.”

Peter nodded silently, though he still felt a little ashamed of himself. It was a phrase he often heard Yondu say - “your mama raised you better n’ that!” - and she did, she really did. He tried his best to be kind, tried his best to be good in a world where people like Thanos were so unbelievably _bad_ \- but his curiosity often got the better of him, and sometimes, his mouth moved faster than his brain.

“Well, I’m real good at talkin’ _and_ listenin’,” Peter offered. “Or I can be quiet, too. Yondu says I’m bad at that, but if you just ask, I can be _really_ quiet, like I’m not even here - ”

“Now would be nice,” Gamora interrupted, though not unkindly. He could see her biting back a smile in the reflection of the glass, almost like she was amused. Peter gave her one last sheepish smile before directing his attention back to bandaging her hand while she continued to watch the stars. 

* * *

A week went by, and Gamora still remained with them, which absolutely delighted Peter. He didn’t have any female friends while he was on Earth, so he was a little shy around her at times, much to Yondu’s amazement. When Kraglin was with them, Peter was his usual boisterous self, a little hot-headed and overly confident at times, likely in an attempt to show off in front of passive, easygoing Kraglin. But he was almost unbearably sweet otherwise.

Peter was most gentle when it came to talking about family; though he talked about his mother frequently to Yondu and Kraglin, he almost never brought her up when Gamora was near. Despite talking about her troubles before, he could tell she was sensitive underneath her standoffish nature, especially when the other Ravagers mentioned her planet in passing, causing her to flinch and retreat. He also constantly encouraged her to eat more, even offering some of his portion whenever she seemed particularly hungry. “You gotta eat until your belly stops hurtin’,” he would say.

Now that Gamora had a regular supply of food and clothes, next on Yondu’s list was to find her something to do. Peter mostly kept himself occupied by bothering everyone until they either shooed him off or showed him what they were up to - he was nothing if not persistent - but Gamora seemed content to sit in her and Peter’s room, alone, unless someone told her otherwise. The very idea of her doing absolutely nothing didn’t feel right to Yondu. Though he wasn’t much of a parenting expert, he knew children needed stimulation or their brains would waste away, and she was far too clever for him to let that happen.

“What did you like doin’ before, Gamora? You like...sports? Music? Books?” Yondu asked awkwardly at dinner. The children were sat on either side of him at the foot of his king-sized bed, watching the stars go by in relative peace and quiet, away from the other Ravagers. Peter had insisted on their newfound dinner tradition since her second night with them, claiming that the men spent far too long glaring at her like she’d wronged them, and so they had been doing it ever since.

“I like reading,” Gamora said tentatively.

“At our next stop, we gonna get you some books, alright?” Yondu said. Her eyes lit up with joy.

“Yes please,” she grinned. It was the first time her face looked far more that of a child’s than that of a child who had seen too much.

Another week came and went before Peter finally felt comfortable enough to talk to Gamora about his mother on a quiet evening when Yondu was out on a job with Horuz. The two of them curled up on the end of Peter’s bed, staring up at the leaky ceiling. “My mom had brain cancer, so everyone thought she was crazy,” Peter recalled sadly. “I told ‘em she knew what she was talking about. But there was this one time, she said my daddy was an angel from the stars, and that I looked a lot like him.”

“And you never met your father?” Gamora asked.

“No, but I dunno if I actually _want_ to,” Peter admitted, plucking at the fraying ends of his bedsheet. “Yondu says my daddy’s not a good man. And I think so too, ‘cos he left my mom, the _coolest_ mom in the world, and never came back.”

Gamora nodded thoughtfully. “How did Yondu find you?”

“Picked me up right after my mom died, said he was s’posed to take me to my daddy,” Peter shuddered. “But he kept me around instead, dunno why. So now I’m trainin’ to be a Ravager.”

“Am _I_ going to be a Ravager?” Gamora looked slightly perturbed by the very idea.

“If you wanna. Maybe we can train together!” Peter sat up suddenly, his eyes brightening.

“Maybe.” Gamora didn’t sound nearly as enthused, though she sat up as well. They both turned their backs against the wall, knees knocking together. “Tell me more about your mother.”

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna - ”

“Please.” She looked at him patiently, her expression earnest.

“Okay, um...Mom really liked cooking, and dancing, and workin’ on her truck. Her daddy taught her how to fix cars so she wouldn’t need no one else to show her how,” Peter said, smiling at the memory. “She said she wanted to be a nurse, but she got pregnant with me ‘fore she could go back to school.”

Without warning, he suddenly got to his feet, ducking under his bed to unearth a raggedy backpack that looked like it had seen better days. Gamora watched as he unzipped it and poured out its contents in front of them, little trinkets and pictures and all sorts of things that he had been keeping to himself until now.

She carefully reached out to pick up the first photo that caught her eye, one of a lovely young woman with a bright smile, holding a boy that was very clearly baby Peter, all round cheeks and twinkling eyes. “Your mother was so pretty,” Gamora commented quietly. “She sounds really nice.”

“She was.” Peter smiled bittersweetly, slowly combing through all the things he had and showing them to her - little toys and action figures, yellowed newspaper clippings that he brought along with him to his hospital visits to read to Meredith, schoolwork that he never finished. Finally, he pulled out the Walkman, the only thing Gamora had seen before, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was. “This is - _was_ \- Mom’s favorite thing in the whole wide world. Music,” he added at Gamora’s perplexed expression. “She played it all the time - when she was makin’ breakfast, or readin’ the newspaper, or when she was helping me with my homework...and she knew all the words to _every_ song that came on the radio.” He held it out to her. “You wanna listen?”

Gamora nodded, and Peter unfurled the headphones carefully, holding it up between them and pressing play. She shuffled a little closer so she could hear as clearly as possible, her eyes squeezing shut to fully immerse herself in the sound.

_Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you...sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you..._

_But in your dreams whatever they be...dream a little dream of me..._

“Do you like it?” Peter asked quietly as the song faded into the next. She seemed...serene, almost, in a way that was vastly different from the skittish look she usually wore. He briefly wondered if she had ever heard music before, considering how desolate her planet had been long before Thanos ever arrived.

“It’s pleasant,” Gamora said consideringly. “We didn’t really have music at my house. My mother liked to read to me, though.”

“I’m no good at reading,” Peter admitted. “I mean, I can read and all, but I get kinda bored unless someone else is readin’ to me.”

It was then Gamora’s turn to light up with anticipation, climbing off Peter’s bed so she could pull out the weathered stack of books that were underneath hers (because yes, Yondu had finally caved and bought her a proper bed frame and mattress of her own - still secondhand, though) and carry them over. They spilled out across the bed, titles and cover images immediately jumping out at him, asking to be cracked open. “Choose one,” she instructed.

“What?” Peter said bewilderedly.

Gamora rolled her eyes with a huff. “Choose one,” she repeated. “I’ll read it to you.”

“Oh!” Delighted by the suggestion, Peter began rifling through the options she’d given him, many far more complex than he imagined he could handle. He suspected that despite Zehoberei’s desperate situation, Gamora’s education far surpassed his, judging by the way she spoke and held herself - or maybe it was just her. Eventually, he landed on a book that looked somewhat familiar, comforting, even. “This one.”

Smiling, she made quick work of putting away the others before returning, sidling up close to him and settling in before beginning to read. Peter sank into her side, soothed by the warmth of her presence that had felt so burdened with sorrow just moments ago. He closed his eyes, absorbing the sound of her quiet, lilting voice that grew stronger with every day that she was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! I've been kind of wanting to write a fic like this for ages but never really got around to it, so [this](http://bevioletskies.tumblr.com/post/176752858903/heres-a-petergamora-prompt-for-you-an-au-where) lovely anonymous fic prompt was the perfect excuse to finally do it. I'm sure there are other fics out there with a similar concept, but this is my take on it, so I hope I'm not stepping on any toes! The song Peter was playing for Gamora is [Dream A Little Dream Of Me](https://open.spotify.com/track/7DX8J4uAEKKi4kkix2dQud?si=cLF9VIirQh68VjRhKgWLUg), specifically the version by The Mamas & The Papas.
> 
> As it is currently final exam time for me, I'm not exactly sure when the second and third parts are going to be posted. However, I've already written a good portion of both, so I promise this fic will be finished by the end of August! Thank you so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of blood and canon-typical violence.

“Where’re we goin’, Yondu? We’ve been walkin’ for _ages_ ,” Peter complained, dragging his feet along the ground. His sulkiness was soon interrupted by his own startled yelp when he accidentally stepped in a mud puddle, splashing dirty water all over the bottoms of his pants. “Aw, gross - ”

“Stop fussin’, boy, you don’t see your sister complaining, do ya?” Yondu retorted as he neatly moved out of the way. He ducked underneath a particularly low-hanging tree branch, glancing at a smug-looking Gamora as she passed through. “An’ we’re almost there.”

“Gamora ain’t my sister, she’s my friend,” Peter insisted, wrinkling his nose.

“She can be both,” Yondu said incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief. He’d be damned if he didn’t love his boy, but some of the things that came out of his mouth made about as much sense as...well, anything else that he said. Gamora turned back to yank Peter impatiently by the arm through the curtain of ivy into the clearing, apparently fed up with their inane conversation.

“But we don’t look nothin’ alike - ” Peter then gasped at the sight before him, a huge, open field of fuschia-colored grass, a sharp contrast to the pale blue sky that surrounded them in every direction. Small yellow flowers grew in healthy patches throughout, and the horizon seemed to stretch on forever, as far as the eye could see. Gamora let go of him first, almost skipping joyously as she ran up ahead, her eyes as wide as saucers. Part of the delight in every new place they went was witnessing her childlike wonderment; Gamora had grown up in a tiny house on a downtrodden planet, and so everything was new to her. Yondu smiled privately to himself.

“Is this where we’re training? It’s so pretty!” she breathed.

“Just today,” Yondu replied. “We gotta head out and do a pickup on Dakkam in the morning, so we gotta be outta here by sunset. In fact, this migh’ be the only training session y’all get this week.” Gamora pouted a little; by contrast, Peter looked absolutely thrilled. “You ready?”

“Yes, Yondu,” Gamora chimed patiently, settling into her stance across from Peter. He looked mildly concerned in comparison, though having supervised their training sessions for two years now, Yondu knew he had reason to be. They braced themselves, waiting for Yondu’s instruction.

“Remember, Ravagers don’t play nice ‘cos the _world_ don’t play nice. But you still gotta be careful, alright? I don’t wanna deal with no broken bones, don’t wanna bring anyone back in a bag,” Yondu warned. “And...go!”

Peter’s reaction time was no match for Gamora’s, as he barely had time to blink before she immediately roundhouse-kicked him in the gut, sweeping back around to knock him clean off his feet. He gasped for breath, clutching at his chest while he struggled into a sitting position. Peter grappled desperately for a moment, catching her by the ankle and yanking her down with him. Gamora cried out as her jaw slammed into the dirt, trying and failing to grab a handful of his hair to weigh him down. He crawled on top of her while she steadied herself, intending to hold her down and call his victory, only to be punched square in the nose. She wrapped her legs around his hips and rolled them over so she was on top instead, then braced her forearm against his neck until he was gasping for breath.

Gamora narrowed her eyes at him with raw ferocity, then broke their gaze to instead smile at Yondu. “Was that okay?”

“You got some speed on ya, Gamora,” Yondu nodded, genuinely impressed. “It was more than okay, believe me. Quill, you gotta keep your eye out for her, alrigh’? Stop thinkin’ you’ve got one over her when she’s five steps ahead of _you_.”

“Yeah, well, I’m better with a gun,” Peter said petulantly, crawling out from underneath her the second she let him go.

“That’s debatable, boy,” Yondu sighed. “Take a mo’, start again.”

The hour of combat practice flew by quickly, mostly resulting in Peter quite literally eating dirt as Gamora pinned him down over and over again like she usually did. Though Peter was a skinny, fast-moving kid, Gamora was even smaller and quicker by comparison, and it made her far more adept at slipping out of his grasp and dodging his attacks. Once Peter _did_ manage to get ahold of her, though, he usually managed to squeak out a victory every now and then. This time in particular, however, he knocked into her a little too hard and immediately apologized - mostly because he didn’t want to face her temper; he was sure her injury was only going to inconvenience her for an hour at most.

“You’re not s’posed to show sympathy to your opponents,” Yondu scolded, though he also couldn’t help but feel bad about the amount of blood profusely dripping out of her nose. Gamora herself didn’t seem too disturbed by it, having bled several times during practice before, and merely wiped her face on her sleeve. “Eat your lunch, then we’re doin’ weapons next.”

“Sorry ‘bout your nose,” Peter repeated sheepishly as he sat beside her, holding out a sandwich in truce. “Does it hurt much?”

“It’s okay,” Gamora replied, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a generous bite. “And I _do_ think you’re better with guns.” Peter beamed, pleased. “But I’m better with knives.”

“It’s ‘cos you got your own blade,” Peter said, waving her off, though he knew she was right. “Oh, forgot to tell you, Kraglin said he found a bunch of books in an old trunk from his job on Praxius. Says he don’t know if they’re too hard for you to read, but you can have ‘em all if you want.”

“I’d like that,” Gamora smiled. “I found another book from the ones Yondu bought me last week that I think you’ll like. It’s about a boy and a girl, and the stars.”

“I like it already,” Peter declared exaggeratedly, causing Gamora to giggle.

“You haven’t heard it yet,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, but if _you’re_ readin’ it, then I’m prob’ly gonna like it anyways,” Peter shrugged, smiling shyly in return before biting into his own food.

* * *

Life, strangely enough, became something of a routine for Peter and Gamora once they really settled into the rhythm of their newfound lives as Ravagers-in-training. Though the line of work was expected to be varied, their actual day-to-day was not - they spent nearly every waking hour together, whether they were having meals or practicing their skills, listening to music or reading in their spare time. Most nights, Yondu would peek into their room to make sure they were settled, only to find them fast asleep on Peter’s bed together, with either the Walkman or their most recent book laid out between them. They had been with the Ravagers for two years now, were extraordinarily sharp-minded and light-fingered for ten-year-olds, and Yondu could barely remember a time without them.

Gamora, to Peter’s dismay, quickly went from being sneered at by the Ravagers to absolutely _adored_ , mostly by those who secretly longed for a family, but knew it was too dangerous in their line of work. She was a fast learner with surprisingly sharp wit, and she had received many a comment about how she was like the clever, brave, and bold daughter they never had. Peter, however, still remained a bit of a nuisance at times, especially when he acted like a show-off (mostly to impress Gamora, but she didn’t need to know that).

“You have to be patient, Peter,” Gamora said one morning at breakfast when Peter was struggling through one of his math problems. After a few months with them, she had insisted that she and Peter get textbooks so they could keep up with their basic education. Both Yondu and Peter were dubious about the suggestion, but she was adamant it would pay off in the long run. “You don’t have to have all the answers right away.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re already done,” Peter grumbled.

“I mean about getting the Ravagers to like you,” she replied.

“Who said I want ‘em to like me?” Gamora shot him a pointed look. “Okay, but...they all like _you_ ‘cos you’re stronger than I am. And that you’re a girl. None of them want boys, there’s too many of ‘em here already.”

“I do wish there was another girl here sometimes,” Gamora admitted. “I always wanted a sister. But my parents couldn’t even really feed _me_ , so having another baby would’ve been a bad idea.”

Peter softened a little, closing his book. “We could always ask Yondu...or would that be super weird?”

“I think it would,” Gamora giggled. “Besides, we have each other. I think that’s good enough, don’t you think?”

“ _More_ than good enough,” he proclaimed, grinning in return. “I got you, Yondu, an’ Kraglin. I don’t need no one else.”

“And it’s okay that the Ravagers don’t like you,” Gamora added. “Once we do our first job, they’ll see what Yondu saw in you. They’ll see the boy who refused to leave me behind.” She reached across the table, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “The boy who’s going to finish all his homework, too.”

Peter groaned, cracking open his book once more. “I _knew_ you were gonna say that.”

* * *

Their first job together was also, coincidentally, their first job alone, and it set Yondu a little on edge to send them on their way. Technically, they weren’t _entirely_ alone, Kraglin was tailing them from a comfortable distance should anything go wrong, but Yondu could only wait with baited breath on the Eclector with the others and hope for the best.

The Ravagers had been wronged by a crime boss on Contraxia who ran a whole ring of businesses there, both legal and illegal, one of them being Yondu’s favorite brothel. He had denied them a significant payment of units in exchange for enough rare Klaatuan weapons to arm his entire security detail. Peter and Gamora were to sneak into one of his extravagant gala events and swipe the codes for his secret vault so the Ravagers could reclaim the weapons. While the adults had been seen on Contraxia far too many times to be disguised in any manner, as far as Varga knew, Peter and Gamora were sweet, docile young children who had come to the event by accident.

“I’ve never seen so much money in one place before,” Peter gasped, glancing around the enormous ballroom in wonderment. It was dripping in jewels and sheathed in gold, filled with people wearing luxurious fabrics and extravagant accessories. He and Gamora were wearing the cleanest clothes they owned, and still, they felt like street urchins in comparison.

“Focus, Peter,” Gamora reminded him. “We have to get into his office before he finishes his speech.”

Mister Varga was stood on the highest balustrade, his deep baritone rumbling through the room as he addressed the crowd in a rather self-congratulatory manner, boasting of his latest exploits and deals. Meanwhile, Peter and Gamora neatly slipped into the elevator alongside a waiter, who was bringing a stack of empty drink trays back to the kitchen. “Are you two lost?” he said gently as the doors closed behind them. “Do you need help finding your parents?”

“My mother is one of Mister Varga’s...companions,” Gamora said, blinking at him innocently. Peter noticed her voice, despite naturally being a little bit husky, had gone up in pitch. “I don’t mean to bother her, sir, I just want to tell her that my sister is very sick, and we need some money to take her to the doctor.”

The waiter eyed her suspiciously, clearly not buying her story. He glanced sharply at Peter. “And you?”

“She didn’t wanna come here alone,” Peter shrugged. Gamora shot him a dirty look.

Pursing his lips, the waiter reached for the communicator holstered on his hip, but before he could pick it up, Gamora promptly kicked him in the hand, causing him to double over in pain and drop all of his trays. She dove to snatch one up, kneeing him in the groin and knocking him in the back of the head with the tray, letting off a resounding metallic rattle. He collapsed in an unconscious heap on the floor on top of the remaining trays, scattering them everywhere.

Peter stared at her in disbelief. Gamora glared back. “He’s not _dead_ , okay? Get the camera.” Sighing, Peter gingerly sidestepped the unconscious man and climbed onto the hand railing so he could get a clear shot of the security camera mounted in the elevator’s upper corner. He switched his blaster to its EMP mode, aimed it at the base, and shorted it out. “Floor?”

“Penthouse,” Peter replied, jumping back down and wincing as some more trays went flying. Gamora punched the button for it and the elevator screen lit up, asking for a four-digit number code. She let out a hiss of disappointment, but Peter promptly pulled out the small screwdriver from his bag and began unscrewing the metal panel. “You’re real lucky I’ve been buggin’ Oblo about showin’ me how to do this stuff.”

“You can brag when you’re done,” Gamora said pointedly, folding her arms across her chest. “Hurry, before the door opens again.”

Peter worked in focused silence for a minute while Gamora kept watch on both the unconscious waiter and the elevator doors, half-expecting Varga himself to suddenly stroll in and have them arrested. She and Peter had to bail out the Ravagers on occasion, showing up to the holding cells with bail money and innocent pleads, when the adults were too rowdy to be trusted with such a job. Eventually, the screen changed, indicating it had accepted whatever it was that Peter did. He glanced over at her triumphantly. “You were sayin’?” he grinned. Gamora merely rolled her eyes in response - it was one of her go-tos when it came to bruising Peter’s ego - though she also clapped him on the shoulder in silent gratitude.

Once they arrived at the penthouse, Gamora promptly knocked out the two security guards at the entrance before Peter even noticed they were there. He stepped neatly over the bodies and went to short out the cameras, while Gamora tiptoed carefully around the apartment, looking for any indications of where his office might be. “Over here,” she whispered into the darkness, gesturing for Peter to join her by the door. He crouched beside her, pulling out a small plasma bead from one of his utility belt pockets and pushing it into the keyhole. It let off a small implosion, and the door swung open as if to welcome them inside. Gamora continued to look unimpressed. “I could have done that _without_ gadgets.”

“But why would you? They’re so cool,” Peter whispered excitedly, almost giddy. Upon preparing for the mission, Yondu had offered them both a selection of weaponry and other useful tools. Peter had snatched up as much as he could possibly fit in his bag without weighing himself down, while Gamora opted to stick with a simple pair of blades, along with her own knife.

They slowly entered the room, Gamora immediately going to sit in front of Varga’s computer to see if she could find the codes. Peter, on the other hand, began rifling through the stacks of paper on the coffee table, looking for clues. After a minute or two passed, Gamora snorted. “Mister Varga put a code on the elevator, but wrote his computer password right here.” She brandished a sticky note for Peter to see.

He chuckled. “Well, he’s gotta be real dumb to cross the Ravagers,” Peter replied. “And the weapons were legal, it’s not like he was gonna get in trouble or nothin’. Yondu just wanted money. We _all_ want money.”

“Yondu said that after he re-sells the weapons, he’s going to buy me a new shelf for my birthday,” Gamora said, smiling a little at the memory as she clicked through several screens. “Then I have somewhere to put all my books.”

“You got more stuff than I do, I think - whoops - ” Peter accidentally dropped a stack of documents, promptly causing them to fly everywhere. Gamora watched in exasperation as he crawled under the desk to retrieve them and nearly hit his head in the process. “Hey, there’s somethin’ here!”

Gamora ducked below as well, curious. “What is it?”

“Number pad,” Peter said, eyes widening. “Gamora...is _this_ the vault?”

“No way,” she breathed. “We have to move the desk, come on - ” They both scrambled to their feet, and with grunts of concentrated effort, the two of them slowly, but surely pushed the desk aside, revealing what appeared to be a safe door embedded in the concrete floor. “Can you code break this one, too?”

“I dunno.” Peter kneeled beside it, bringing his eyes level with the number pad, trying his best to remember what Oblo had taught him. “What if it’s got traps or somethin’?

“We have to try something, Peter,” Gamora insisted, though she also looked a little worried. “Put your mask on.”

Peter tapped on the button behind his right ear, his helmet forming in seconds around his entire head. He tried to ignore how claustrophobic it made him feel, instead switching to thermal vision and examining the vault and its contents for any potential dangers. “I see some of the weapons Yondu sold him! And one of them unit transfer device thingies - ”

“Those store _millions_ of units,” Gamora exclaimed, impressed. “It’s probably how Mister Varga makes deals, so he doesn’t have to keep actual money.”

“It looks real deep.” Peter straightened up, deactivating his helmet. “There’s no heat signals for explosives or wires for triggers or nothin’, but neither of us are tall enough to reach the ground.”

Gamora chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully, wondering what to do. “Open it. I have a plan.”

When it seemed like she wasn’t going to elaborate any further, Peter resignedly pulled another device out of his bag, this time a small precision laser that he used to slowly ease the door away from its sides. He pried open the keypad covering like he did in the elevator, then quickly fiddled around with the wires until he seemed confident, closing it back up again. Peter glanced up at Gamora warily before wrapping his fingers around the handle and yanking, _hard_. It came away easily, the door swinging open quietly and landing with a soft _thump_.

Gamora knelt beside it, turning around and slowly easing herself down without warning. Peter startled. “Whoa, what’re you doin’?”

She held out her left hand, eyes shining with determination. “Take my hand, Peter.”

“But what if - ”

“You’re not going to drop me, I know it,” Gamora said firmly. “Take my hand.”

Reluctantly, Peter grasped hers in his, though he could already feel his palms becoming sweaty at the terrifying notion of letting her fall, and he laid flat on his stomach so he could lower Gamora as far as possible, bracing his other hand on the edge. Even between the two of them, Gamora couldn’t quite reach the bottom.

An agonizing few minutes passed as Gamora rummaged around with her free hand, occasionally tossing up a unit transfer device that she managed to unearth from all the other items inside. Finally, after she managed to recover five individual devices, she smiled up at him brightly, and Peter felt his heart thump just a little bit faster. “We should probably leave Mister Varga a _little_ bit of money, right? So he can get better security?”

“You’re makin’ me nervous,” Peter complained, though he couldn’t help but laugh at her joke. “I’m pullin’ you up now.”

It didn’t take much to lift her back up, though Peter was pleased to find she was significantly heavier than she had been when they first met. He remembered one particular night when they were stargazing by their favorite window, maybe a month or two after she had joined them, and she had fallen asleep. Peter had to carry her back to their room and was a little concerned about how small she felt in his arms, how easy it had been for him, a small child himself, to do so.

Gamora tumbled onto the ground beside him, still grinning. “Let’s go before he comes back.”

Getting back into the elevator was easy enough, though Gamora made the executive decision to deposit the waiter and all of his drink trays on the penthouse floor, beside the unconscious security guards. Peter kept nervously watching over his shoulder as they hefted the bodies across the plush carpet, reminding himself that they were merely passed out, not dead. His mind still kept going back to Gamora’s planet, and he supposed that she was thinking it, too, judging by the slightly uneasy expression on her face before they left.

Adrenaline was still rushing through them both as they stepped out onto the main floor, weaving their way through the crowd with delirious giddiness. Gamora grabbed Peter’s hand again before they could be separated, pulling him along as they made their way towards the doors.

Just as they were about to slip out, they were suddenly stopped by an attendant. “Excuse me, I have to check your bags.” They both froze, glancing up at the stern-faced woman who seemed far less forgiving than the waiter had initially been.

“Please, miss, I have to get back to my sick sister - ” Gamora began, but the woman merely glared her into silence.

“Open your bag, young man,” she demanded. Sighing, Peter unbuckled his bag and pushed the flap open, stretching it open so she could look inside. She peered around with a small flashlight, her eyes landing on something particularly shiny. “What’s this?”

“I’m real sorry, miss,” Peter said sadly. “It’s just...I don’t get a lot of chocolate at home. I thought if I take just one - ”

Eyeing him darkly, the attendant closed his bag with a snap. “Go. Get out of here.”

“Thank you, miss, I won’t do it again, I promise - ” Peter called as Gamora dragged him away, the two of them practically sprinting out the doors. Once they were a safe distance away, they both stopped to catch their breath, Peter hunched over as he rested his hands on his knees - as expected, Gamora was also the much better runner between them. “You still got ‘em all?”

“You’re lucky I’m quick, your hand was so sweaty.” She shook out her jacket sleeve, dropping all five transfer devices back into her hand and depositing them into Peter’s bag. “Peter...we did it.”

“All by ourselves, too,” Peter said, puffing out his chest a little. “Now we just gotta wait for Kraglin to find us, then we can tell everyone that we kicked serious butt today.”

* * *

Peter let out a whoop of victory the second they boarded the Eclector, while Gamora looked almost embarrassed at all the attention as the Ravagers crowded around in anticipation of their arrival. Yondu was first to greet them, sweeping them both up into his arms with a happy cry, much to their surprise. “And y’all doubted ‘em! All of you!” he crowed delightedly. “Quill an’ Gamora just made us rich, boys!”

The entire ship seemed to rumble with the sound of every single Ravager cheering boisterously, raising their pint glasses in the air. They moved in even closer, trying to reach Peter and Gamora so they could ruffle their hair or squeeze their shoulders in appreciation. Peter, of course, soaked in all the praise, and was hoisted up onto Oblo’s shoulders, hooting loudly as he held the transfer devices above his head like they were prized trophies. Gamora remained close by Yondu’s side, smiling up at Peter apprehensively.

When it seemed like the ruckus would never end, with every single Ravager wanting to personally congratulate the kids, Peter eventually made his way back to Gamora and held out his hand for her to take. “Wanna go to the window? I got a bunch of chocolate that mean lady never found,” he offered. Smiling, Gamora accepted it and followed him down the corridor, winding through the increasingly louder (and drunker) crowd along the way.

As always, they sat cross-legged on the floor and watched the stars go by, both energized and pleasantly exhausted from the evening’s events. They passed the chocolate back and forth, savoring its bittersweetness, a taste they didn’t get to experience too often. “You did really well today, Peter,” Gamora commented after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “I bet the Ravagers like you now.”

He perked up. “Really?”

“You were really clever. I wouldn’t be able to do some of the stuff you did,” she admitted. “Like in the elevator. And I would’ve _never_ looked under the desk.”

“You were the one who took out the waiter and the guards, _and_ you got into the vault,” Peter countered, though he looked pleased. “That was pretty cool.”

“We both did a good job, then,” she corrected herself, taking another bite. “We make a good team.”

“We should be a team _forever_ ,” he proclaimed. “Even when we’re super old and our bodies don’t work so good anymore. We can still take down bad guys and make tons of money!”

Gamora’s smile faltered. “But...we stole from someone. Doesn’t that make _us_ the bad guys?”

“I don’t think so, ‘cos Mister Varga was way, _way_ worse,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Mister Varga’s a crook who hurt tons of people with his money and his weapons. Ravagers are jus’ pirates.”

“But are we good or bad?” Gamora persisted.

Peter hummed thoughtfully, shuffling a little closer to snuggle into Gamora’s side. He laid his head on her shoulder, his eyes sliding shut in the comfort of her presence. “I think we’re a bit of both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! I feel like there's something really delightful about young Peter and Gamora playing the part of innocent children while still kicking ass and taking names, so I hope their little heist was fun to read - it was certainly tons of fun to write. I'll admit that I finished this chapter a week ago, but considering the last part is taking a while to finish since it's going to be longer and more emotional (hoo boy, they're gonna be teenagers), I figured I would delay this one so they're a little more evenly spaced. I promise it will be done before the end of the month!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of blood and canon-typical violence.

Gamora stood to face the full-length mirror in the corner of her and Peter’s shared room, pulling her long, dark hair back into a ponytail, holding her hair elastic between her teeth. It was then that she caught movement in the mirror’s reflection - someone was watching her - and she turned to see Peter standing in the doorway. He jolted in sudden realization that he’d been caught. She sighed. “What is it, Peter?”

“Nothing,” he said far too quickly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You keep... _looking_ at me. If this is because I cracked your ribs during training yesterday, I already apologized, though really, you should be paying more attention.”

“I think I’m not payin’ attention at the right time,” Peter said sheepishly.

Gamora’s frown only deepened further. “And what does _that_ mean?”

Peter, however, pretended not to hear her, instead moving to finally start packing his bag, keeping his back to her. “So, I’ve been counting, and this is our twenty-fifth job as a team. Can’t believe we’ve been doin’ this for _four_ years.”

She paused, wondering whether to let it go, wondering if Peter just had another one of his verbal slip-ups, meaning to keep his thoughts to himself. There were certain things that they both seemed less likely to talk about these days, unlike when they were young children who told each other everything.

“You’re better at these kinds of jobs than I am,” she finally said, closing her case with a snap. She settled down on her bed to watch Peter while he continued folding his clothes, something he was supposed to have done hours ago. He had gotten so tall in just the last six months, his shoulders notably broader. Peter wasn’t quite the skinny, long-limbed kid he’d been when they first started out. “Going undercover, even though it’s temporary...it always makes me a little uncomfortable.”

“It’s ‘cos I like talkin’ to people,” Peter shrugged. “You’re more, ‘stab, stab, those are _my_ terms’.” Gamora couldn’t help but chuckle at how unfortunately correct he was. “It’s gonna be fine, we’re only getting placed inside so we can help the others break in. One day at most, and I’m gonna be with you the whole time. You barely gotta do anything but be yourself.”

“Be myself? People don’t like me,” Gamora pointed out.

“I like you,” Peter declared. He hesitated. “Wait, I mean - ”

“I know what you mean,” she said quietly, though Peter had a feeling she really, _really_ didn’t. “Hurry up, Yondu’s expecting us.”

“You’re late,” Yondu grumbled as the two of them hurried through the doors of the loading bay thirty minutes later. “You were s’posed to be in the air fifteen minutes ago, our contact’s waitin’.”

“If I had known Peter hadn’t started packing yet, I would have said something,” Gamora said apologetically.

“It ain’t your job to keep him in line, Gamora,” Yondu reminded her, squeezing her shoulder. “And you’re doin’ good work, you know the boys love you.” As if to prove a point, several of the nearby Ravagers who were working on a broken ship engine raised their tools to wave in her direction, grinning toothy, misshapen grins. “Don’t worry about a thing, alright? _You_ , though, boy, you gotta pick up your slack. This is your job we’re talkin’ about here. You think just ‘cos Gamora’s looking out for ya, you can let her handle everythin’? You gonna go through the rest of your life bein’ tardy? Disrespec’ful? You gotta step up, Quill, ya hear me?”

“Yes, _Dad_ ,” Peter grouched, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, boy. Now get in the damn ship and go already,” Yondu snapped. Peter unceremoniously stomped off in a huff, while Gamora gave Yondu a quick hug before running off after Peter, determined to snap him out of whatever brand of teenage angst he was currently going through.

Once they were comfortably settled in the atmosphere with the ship on auto-pilot, Peter leaned back in his seat, frustrated. “Do you get the feelin’ Yondu doesn’t like me sometimes?”

“Yondu _loves_ you, Peter, you know that,” Gamora insisted.

“Sure don’t feel that way.” Peter plucked at a loose thread on his gloves, refusing to look at her. “He didn’t have me for that long before we found you, y’know.”

“I still think about that day,” she said. “Pretend all you want, but...I know Yondu was going to leave me behind. _You_ insisted that he take me in, that he keep me and feed me and train me...you saved my life, Peter. I’m never, _ever_ going to forget that. But you know what else?” He shook his head. “I think you saved Yondu’s life, too. Not literally, but you’ve done _so_ much for him. He may prefer my work ethic, but when it comes to heart, it’s you. Every single time.”

Peter slowly cracked a grin. “You really think so?”

“Yes,” Gamora said simply. “There is no one in the universe we trust more than you. We would both be _devastated_ if anything happened to you, Peter. And just because I’m more...punctual, and focused, it doesn’t make me his favorite child.”

Peter couldn’t help but shudder at the last part. “Still weirds me out that people call you my sister.”

She shrugged. “Yondu raised us together, what else would you call that?”

“I dunno. I just don’t feel like we’re...siblings, exactly.” Peter trailed off, unsure of what he was going to say.

“I know what you mean,” she repeated, her smile widening.

They arrived at their destination a few hours later, a place that Ravagers usually avoided at all costs - Xandar, where the Nova Corps swarmed the streets and the airspace by the dozens. However, once Peter and Gamora met up with their contact at the loading dock and were transported to their final location, they looked like nothing more than innocent, bright-eyed private school students, wearing perfectly pressed uniforms and shiny leather shoes, paired with slightly uncomfortable grimaces.

“I feel ridiculous,” Peter whined once he and Gamora successfully made it inside the school’s main building. He was adamant that his tie was too tight, and he’d never had a shirt buttoned up so high before.

“Don’t draw attention to yourself,” Gamora scolded, swatting his hands away before he could fuss. “We get in, place the charges and set the timer, clear the building, and - ”

“Hello!” A Krylorian girl suddenly popped up in front of them, smiling cheerily. “I’ve never seen you two around before, and I think I would remember your faces. New students?”

Gamora’s entire demeanor shifted almost instantly. She let her shoulders fall a little, tilting her head curiously, loosening the anxious grip she had on the strap of her bookbag. “Guilty as charged,” she laughed, her voice softer and sweeter. “My cousin and I were looking for the library so we could pick up our textbooks.”

The girl glanced dubiously between them. “...cousin?”

“We got a Xandarian grandpa in common,” Peter said hastily. “I, uh, I think his genes mostly skipped over Gamora’s side of the family.”

The girl blinked. “Well, okay,” she said confusedly. “Um, I can take you to the library! You can also pick up your school maps there, even digital copies if you’d like - oh, and I almost forgot!” She stuck out her hand. “My name is Bereet.”

“Good to meet you, Bereet,” Peter said huskily - was he making his voice deeper? - as he shook her hand. Gamora shot him an incredulous look, hoping he realized how obvious he was being. “I’m Peter.”

“And _we’re_ in a bit of a rush, so if we can get going?” Gamora interrupted.

Bereet didn’t seem too phased by Gamora’s sudden bluntness, gesturing for them to follow her through the winding halls of Xandar Prime Academy. She briefly paused to point out certain notable locations like the gymnasium and the study hall along the way, even waved at a few students as they carried on. She seemed beloved by her fellow classmates and excessively chatty for Gamora’s taste, but Peter had no trouble keeping up with her friendly disposition, throwing in a funny comment or two of his own that made her laugh.

“Here we are,” Bereet announced a few minutes later, bringing them to a stop in front of a weathered-looking oak door. “If you need anything else, come find me in the common room. Otherwise, I hope you’ll enjoy it here, and I’m sure we’ll see each other again!”

“Wait!” Peter called as she turned to leave. “I mean...there’s _gotta_ be an easier way to find you, right?” Bereet’s eyes widened in surprise, and if it wasn’t for the vibrant pink of her skin, he was certain she would be blushing, too. Gamora, meanwhile, had to bite her lip from groaning out loud. Was he _seriously_ doing this right now?

“Of course,” Bereet replied, typing her number into Peter’s phone with a delighted giggle. She sent him one last charming smile and wave before finally leaving the two of them alone. Gamora had to elbow Peter to bring him out of his Bereet-induced stupor.

“We don’t have all day, Peter, they’re expecting us to be ready by morning,” she reminded him testily.

“C’mon, Gamora, live a little,” Peter protested, though he did open the library door for her. “We never see kids our age, she was cute.”

“We aren’t kids anymore, as clearly seen by the way your voice cracked just now,” Gamora said, getting far too much enjoyment out of the way Peter’s face reddened in response. “Although I guess it’s not too unusual for us to want to expand our social circles since we’ve only ever had each other.”

“And what happened to that being good enough?” Peter said, half-teasingly. They walked through the vast maze of shelves and tables toward the back of the library where the quiet study area was, which was thankfully empty. There was a long stretch of blank wall that looked innocuous enough, but they both knew there was more to it. As Peter began digging through his bag for the gravity mine so he could crack it open, he realized Gamora hadn’t responded to him at all. “...Gamora?”

For once, she seemed distracted, glancing hungrily at the bookshelves with longing. “I always wondered what it would be like to have a real education, to be surrounded by people my age. If Yondu had dropped me off on Xandar like he planned, who knows? I might have ended up here.”

Peter paused. “Gamora…”

“Maybe I would have made friends...participated in clubs and teams...been part of a family.” She smiled. “It’s just a thought.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Peter said warily, stepping closer. “You already got a family, okay? With us.”

“It’s just one of many possibilities, Peter,” Gamora replied defensively. “We can pretend all we want, but we aren’t... _good_ people. We lie, and cheat, and steal our way into riches that we don’t deserve. But if I had lived here instead - ”

“You were _just_ talking about how we saved your life,” Peter hissed under his breath. “Now, what, you take one look at this place and now you wanna run?”

Gamora’s eyes darkened. “If this is how you react when I try to tell you something personal, then maybe I should.”

Peter recoiled. She confided in him about _everything_ , or at least, so he thought. Her dreams, her fears, her regrets - she even once told him the full story of how she had survived on Zehoberei for the weeks between Thanos’s attack and his and Yondu’s arrival, something that made his stomach turn just thinking about it. The very idea of her wanting to leave the Ravagers behind...he didn’t even want to consider it.

Gamora yanked the gravity mine out of his bag and fixed it to the wall, apparently done with the conversation. She kept her back to him as the device whirred and spun, watching the seam in the supposedly smooth surface rumble open, then ran her fingernail along the crease and “opened” the wall, stepping inside the hidden room without looking back.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he called after her, stumbling inside. He barely glanced around at their new surroundings - thick metal walls and floors, rows of safes that housed some of the school’s most precious pieces, all far too heavy-duty for any of Peter’s handheld devices to do the trick - as he was far too focused on her confession.

“We’ve changed, Peter.” Gamora finally looked at him again, only to smile ruefully, like she’d accepted the inevitable long ago. “I know we still have some ways to go when it comes to physical and emotional maturity - ” Peter shuddered “ - but you can’t deny that we don’t spend every hour together, don’t tell each other everything, the way we used to. It’s also why you and Yondu fight more, why you and I don’t talk as often. We’re old enough to have our own secrets.”

“So you’re sayin’ we’re no longer a team ‘cos we grew up?” Peter said incredulously. “That’s bullshit.”

“Peter - ”

“You wanna give up after six _years_ of being best friends.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s what you’re tellin’ me.”

“You’re not listening to me, as always,” Gamora snapped. “And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe _I’ve_ changed, and _you_ decided to stay the same! You go around bothering everyone on the ship, trying to make yourself seem important, telling everyone stories we’ve all heard a thousand times. You complain about early mornings and doing chores and training, you don’t listen and yet you talk too much - ”

“Gee, tell me how you really feel!” Peter shot back.

“We’re going to be adults, soon, Peter, so it’s time you start acting like one.” Gamora snatched Peter’s bag away, rummaging for the charges that he was supposed to set, and began making her way across the room. “Be responsible. Be thoughtful. Be...just, be better.”

“Screw off, Gamora.” She stared up at him in astonishment. “You don’t get to say that crap to me.” He turned and promptly stormed out, leaving her to stare dumbfoundedly after him in complete and utter shock.

Hands shaking, Gamora managed to finish the rest of the set-up on her own, knowing it was too risky to leave it behind to go find him. It was hard to ignore the acid burning in her throat, the knot in her stomach, the tears in her eyes that were threatening to fall. They’d had their spats before, sure, but never had they been so _vicious_. They both had tempers - it was difficult not to develop a bit of a complex, growing up surrounded by rowdy criminals - but she wasn’t sure where her words had come from this time.

She slipped out of the library a few minutes later, internally debating whether to retreat to the designated room that their contact had set up - a nearby dorm that had enough amenities for her and Peter to make it through the night - or to look for him first. Something told her that Peter hadn’t gone to the room at all, and instead, she would find him where a certain someone else said they would be.

When Gamora arrived at the common room, her heart sank in the realization that, unfortunately, she was correct. Peter was sat in a plush armchair by the fireplace across from Bereet, and he looked... _happy_. Happy in a way that only happened sparingly with her or Yondu nowadays, smiling and laughing and joking around in a way that he barely did anymore, what with everyone picking on him (or at least, that was probably how it felt to him). Gamora felt her chest constrict painfully like someone had wrapped their fingers around her heart and squeezed so hard that it hurt to breathe. She took a few steps back, intending to slip out the door, run away from the sight that left her feeling upset and guilty and _confused_ , until their heads turned in her direction.

“Gamora!” Bereet exclaimed. “There you are. I asked Peter where you were, and he said he lost you somewhere in the library.”

“Yes, I think he did,” Gamora said cooly. Peter sank into his chair, staring into the crackling fire. “I can’t stay, I have to go make a call. So, if you want to find me…don’t.”

Peter lifted his head, looking at her worriedly, while poor Bereet seemed confused again, but Gamora merely turned and walked out of the room, breaking into a sprint as she tore through the hallway, ignoring the shouts of students and teachers that followed her all the way down. She quickly identified and secluded herself in the designated room, pulling out her phone with trembling hands as she dialed for the one person - the _only_ person - she knew she could talk to now.

“You two get it done, Gamora?”

“Charges have been set, no thanks to Peter,” she muttered bitterly, lowering herself onto the creaky mattress. She knew she was acting like a petulant child, but sometimes, Peter’s behavior wanted to make her pull out all her hair and scream.

“Back up a second, girl, what’s this about Peter? He screw up again?”

Gamora gritted her teeth. “We fought, Yondu. Like we’ve been doing for a while now. He left before he could help me finish, so I did the job myself. There’s nothing more to it, and I...just, don’t blame him, okay? We were both at fault.”

“‘Nothin’ more to it’ - sounds like there’s a _lot_ more to it,” Yondu snorted derisively. “Tell me, Gamora. What happened?”

She swallowed. Maybe this conversation wasn’t meant to happen, after all. “See you in twelve hours, Yondu.” Gamora hung up before he could protest and laid down on her side, clenching her fists in the old sheets, itching to hit something, vent her frustrations in some way. Her screen lit up over and over again as Yondu attempted to call her back, and she stabbed at the “Ignore” button every single time, her eyes beginning to slide closed from the monotony of the task and the loneliness stirring in her heart.

Before she knew it, she was being shaken awake. She shot up, unsheathed up her switchblade, and brandished it with a startled cry, only to realize she was holding it right against Peter’s throat. “Shit, Gamora,” he breathed. “I know we aren’t talking and all, but - ”

“Don’t _do_ that, Peter!” Groaning, she shoved her knife back into her belt pocket and sat back down. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Dunno. Ravagers are gonna be here in an hour.” He stared at the empty space beside her, wondering whether he should sit as well. “Yondu called me.”

“And?” she said shortly.

“You told him we had a problem.” Peter folded his arms across his chest. “Is this what we’re doin’ now? Running to Yondu like scared kids ‘cos we can’t talk to each other anymore?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” Gamora snapped. “All I wanted was to confide in you, something I _used_ to be able to do, about a different life that I pictured, a life in which we don’t have to hurt and manipulate everyone and everything around us to get what we want. _You_ decided to think it meant I no longer wanted to be your friend as if anything that _I_ want has anything to do with _you_.”

“You made it about me when you started tellin’ me what kind of person I am!” Peter shouted back. “Is that what you’ve been thinkin’ about me this whole time? That I’m some selfish, annoying kid who don’t know when to shut up? Or did it start when all the Ravagers started pickin’ on me?”

Gamora narrowed her eyes. “This has _nothing_ to do with what the Ravagers think of you, Peter. You were insufferable to begin with.”

Peter flinched. He took a few unsteady steps toward the door, pausing. “I dunno what I was thinking, coming here. I guess I was thinking that I could get my best friend back. Guess I was wrong.” The door slammed shut behind him, rattling the walls. Gamora finally let out the scream of frustration she’d been holding in for far too long, whipping out her knife and flinging it straight at where Peter’s head had been. The blade stuck itself in the door, though Gamora gained no satisfaction from her perfect aim. This supposedly innocuous job of theirs, their twenty-fifth as an unstoppable duo, was rapidly leading to their end.

True to their word, the Ravagers arrived about an hour later, ready to wreak havoc on the unsuspecting Xandarian school. They weren’t interested in hurting innocent schoolchildren, though, so Gamora had pulled the alarm five minutes prior to their arrival to evacuate the whole building. By the time Yondu found her by the back entrance, the halls were already empty, klaxons blasting at full volume, with red lights cutting through the darkness, casting eerie shadows across everyone’s faces.

“Where’s Quill?” Yondu hollered over the noise.

“I don’t know!” Gamora shouted back, turning to lead him and the others to the vault room. Yondu grabbed her arm and yanked her aside before she could, motioning for Tullk to guide the rest of the men instead.

“Dammit, girl, I been tryin’ to talk some sense into him ever since you stopped answering my calls,” Yondu growled. “You’ve both been sensitive as hell lately, why’d you hafta poke at each other like that?”

“I’ve been having doubts lately. About myself. If I’ve made a mistake, being here.” Gamora’s shoulders sank. “I guess he didn’t like hearing me say it. And I didn’t like being questioned.”

“Here as in - bein’ a Ravager?” Yondu looked so betrayed, Gamora only felt even worse.

“Yes,” she admitted, ducking her head shamefully. “It’s not about you, Yondu, I promise. I just don’t know if this is what I want to be doing for the rest of my life.”

“Listen, Gamora.” Yondu clapped her on the shoulder, lowering his head to meet her eyes. “You’re one of the best damn recruits we’ve ever had. You’re smart, you’re fast, you’ve got good reflexes, and you know your way around jus’ about any kind of scrap. But sometimes, I think you and Quill are wasted here. You could both be a damn sight better than criminals, always runnin’ from the law. So stop hurtin’ each other when you could be working together.”

She smiled ruefully. “I just want it all to stop. The anger, the secrets...I want it to be like it was before. The days when we ate together, trained together, played together.”

“Guess what, girl? Things are _never_ gonna be the way they were before, and y’know why? You two are getting older. Smarter. And that ain’t a bad thing. But you gotta learn how to grow together, or you’re only gonna grow apart.” Gamora nodded, sighing. Yondu’s communicator suddenly lit up, Peter’s name flashing across the screen. “What is it, boy?”

“‘Just wanted to make sure you’re both okay. Everyone else is here, said they left you behind.”

“We’re on our way,” Yondu replied shortly, hanging up. “C’mon, girl, no more weepin’. We got some Ravaging to do!”

Yondu and Gamora caught up with the others soon after, finding them all gathered in the vault room. Peter was helping direct everyone in and out as efficiently as possible, barely sparing a glance for them when they arrived. “Charges are gonna blow in five minutes,” he announced not too long after. The Ravagers had fully evacuated and were on their way to the Eclector with their haul, leaving the three of them behind to do a last-minute check. “Better get outta here before _we_ explode, too.”

Gamora nodded sharply, moving to adjust her belt, when she realized something was...off. It felt lighter than usual, like something was missing. Her blood ran cold as she patted her pockets. “Wait...my knife.”

“No time, girl, we gotta go,” Yondu insisted, turning on his heel.

“Wait, wait.” Peter lurched forward to grab Yondu by the elbow before he could run off. He turned to look at Gamora intently. “Your dad’s switchblade?”

She nodded, reluctant to acknowledge her mistake. “Yes, but Yondu’s right, we have to - _Peter_!” They barely had time to blink before Peter went sprinting down the hallway toward the room. “Peter, get back here!”

“Quill, I swear to the gods - ” Yondu yanked Gamora into his chest, pinning her arms behind her back. She snarled, struggling against him. “No, you ain’t goin’ after him, Gamora, don’t be stupid now!”

“One of us has to do _something_ , the building is going to collapse before he makes it back - ” She wrestled out of his grasp and took off before he could retaliate, shouting after Peter desperately, begging him to come back. He was so far ahead, she could see almost nothing of him except the tails of his coat whipping around every corner.

Despite being the faster runner, Gamora only just managed to catch up once Peter had come to a dead stop in front of the room. He was staring disbelievingly at where she had left her knife - stuck in the door, right where she had thrown it in anger. “Man, you really _are_ mad at me,” he chuckled weakly, yanking it out and passing it back to her with an almost teasing grin.

“And what’s your plan for getting back to the ship in time? We have two minutes before this entire place is blown to pieces!” she growled, though underneath her fury, her heart was drumming rapidly in the realization that there was a very good chance they were about to die.

“We aren’t going back. We’re going under.” She barely had time to ask him what he meant before he snatched her by the wrist and went sprinting back in the other direction and into the common room. She watched as he pushed aside one of the armchairs by the fireplace to reveal a large wooden door, just like the safe door he had accidentally discovered in their first mission together. He let go of her to yank it open, then held out his hand. “You trust me?”

“Yes, but - ”

“Then take my hand.”

Gamora didn’t have to be asked twice, grasping his sweaty hand in hers and letting him pull them into the hole in the floor that was clearly meant for something much smaller than people. He yanked the door shut, enveloping them in darkness, and tucked himself tightly around her, their bodies wound together. She felt Peter’s fingers graze the back of her ear, her confusion suddenly becoming clear when his mask formed around her head. “Wait, what about you?”

A rush of sound exploded above them, walls and floors and furniture crashing together and crumbling apart. Peter buried his face into Gamora’s neck, bracing himself as best he could as the entire room seemed to shake with the sheer force of the blast. Gamora’s grip on Peter’s waist tightened, her heart pounding so rapidly it felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest.

When everything finally seemed to settle down, Gamora deactivated the helmet. Her hands immediately went to Peter’s face, poking and prodding to make sure he was still in one piece. Peter had never seen her look so concerned and so infuriated at the same time. “You could have _died_ , Peter!”

“And we didn’t, so...you’re welcome.” He grinned lopsidedly in a very Peter-ish way, though it was ruined by him letting out a hacking cough from the dust that had gotten into his lungs.

She let out a frustrated sob. “You shouldn’t have gone back for the knife, it wasn’t _that_ important - ”

“It was to you,” Peter said simply. He unhooked the device from the back of her ear and slid it back onto his own with a gentle smile. To her surprise, he began running his fingers through her hair, at first to gently press against her skull to make sure she hadn’t bumped her head, but then as a simple gesture of comfort. “Are you okay?”

She finally softened, the fight leaving her body. “Yes. Thank you, and...I’m sorry. About earlier, about everything I said. I know we’ve been getting on each other’s nerves a lot lately, but it’s no excuse for me to have been so cruel. You’re a good person, Peter, truly one of the best I’ve ever known.”

“And I’m sorry I got so weird about you leaving. I just don’t wanna think about not having you in my life,” he confessed. “I support you no matter what, okay? I really do.” He tilted his chin so their foreheads met in the middle. “Um...you know earlier, when I said...that it doesn’t feel like we’re siblings? And that I like you? Did you know what I was tryna say?”

Gamora’s brow knitted in confusion for a moment, before she grinned widely, radiating a sort of joy that he hadn’t seen on her face in a long time. She leaned up to kiss him, right on the corner of his mouth, before pulling away. “I think I do,” she said elatedly. “Now let’s get out of here before the entire place burns down with us still in it.”

* * *

“You two think you’re _so_ clever.” The door swung into the wall with a _bang_ , startling the room’s occupants. “Can’t hide nothin’ from me, no sir - oh.” Yondu blinked confusedly as his eyes adjusted to the light. Peter and Gamora were sat cross-legged on Peter’s bed, their knees barely brushing, textbooks and tablets open on their laps.

“Did you say something, Yondu?” Peter said innocently.

“Don’t get smart with me, boy,” Yondu warned. “Tullk told me he saw you two kissin’ by that window you like so much.”

“Kissing?” Gamora hummed, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “That’s strange.”

“Don’t _you_ start,” Yondu groaned. He shut the door behind him and sat across from them on Gamora’s bed, narrowing his eyes. “Pretend all ya want, but I can see what’s goin’ on. So how long has this been happening?”

Peter and Gamora exchanged slightly uncomfortable glances. “Almost two years,” Gamora finally said.

“But you’re only sixteen,” Yondu said in disbelief. “The hell’ve you been doin’ - wait, no, I don’t wanna know.”

“We’re being...safe, Yondu, it’s okay,” Peter assured him, though something about Yondu’s expression told them both that it certainly wasn’t making him feel any better. “You don’t gotta give us the ‘talk’ or nothing.”

“So I’m too late. That’s jus’ _fantastic_ to hear.” Yondu lowered his head into his hands, rubbing his temples agitatedly. “I spent the last eight years tellin’ folk about you two. I go to a bar with the boys, I get a little drunk, I tell them random strangers an’ anyone else who’ll listen about my kids, how they pull off some damn good heists and actually listen to me most of the time. I say, ‘I got good kids. Don’t make messes, don’t spend all my money, don’t disrespec’ me. They make this old man’s heart soft, an’ that’s a tough thing to do’. _Now_ what am I s’posed to tell ‘em?”

“That we aren’t siblings,” Peter said dryly. Yondu looked at Gamora, half-expecting her to disagree - she never seemed to take issue with it the way that he did - but she merely shrugged.

“Peter has always been my best friend. Never my brother,” Gamora added with a gentle smile. She reached over to squeeze Yondu’s knee, patting him comfortingly. “Nothing has changed, Yondu. You’re still like a father to us, we’re still your children. You kept Peter away from his crazed father all these years, you saved me from dying a slow death on my dying planet.”

“That was Quill’s doing,” Yondu retorted, though he was starting to crack the tiniest of smiles.

“You could have given me up to the Nova Corps or dropped me off at the nearest orphanage, but you didn’t. You could have hidden Peter away somewhere instead of taking him in yourself, but you didn’t.” Gamora’s eyes were growing suspiciously wet. “You fed us, clothed us, gave us a home. Taught us how to fight, bought us books so we could learn, kept us warm and safe and _happy_. You tell those strangers that we’re family, because _that’s_ the truth.”

Yondu turned away, almost too embarrassed to look at them. “You got a way with words sometimes, y’know that?” he said gruffly. Grinning, Peter moved to sit beside Yondu and wrapped his arms around him, a rare sight that made Gamora sigh with equal parts relief and joy.

“C’mon, old man, lighten up,” Peter laughed. He gestured for Gamora to join the embrace. Her smile widened as she neatly sat down on Yondu’s other side, ducking slightly so she could wind her arms around his waist. “Things don’t hafta to be weird. You know we got plans to do our own thing when we’re adults, but right now, we ain’t going anywhere. Though I can’t promise you won’t _actually_ catch us one day.”

“Peter,” Gamora growled testily.

“Now I gotta reconsider whether you two get to still share a room,” Yondu sighed, patting them awkwardly on the back. “Eventually gotta tell the boys, gotta set Gamora up with a doc for her birth control implant...you kids are gonna stress me out all the way to early retirement, I swear.”

“We love you too, Yondu,” Peter mumbled into Yondu’s shoulder.

* * *

“Gamora. _Psst_ , Gamora.” Peter huffed impatiently, wiggling the button on his communicator, wondering if it had broken. “I see a whole group of ‘em over here, so if you could come back, that’d be awesome.” All he got in response was static. He popped open the back of the device to check for fried wires or leaky batteries, but everything seemed to be in order. Peter turned it back around and pressed the button again. He was beginning to worry. “Gamora, you okay?”

Before he could get up and start looking for her, a sudden feral roar ripped through the bushes not ten feet in front of his face, and a cluster of skeletal creatures burst out with a screech. The one leading the pack opened its mouth to growl, spittle flying everywhere, snapping its horrifically pointy teeth. Peter let out a shriek of his own that he wasn’t particularly proud of before turning and sprinting in the other direction. He zig-zagged across the large expanse of forest in an attempt to shake them off, his trembling hands reaching for the quad blasters holstered on his hips.

He glanced over his shoulder, firing off - _one two three four_ \- and they went crashing down with a high-pitched wail, their limbs flailing everywhere, but the leader seemed determined, still pursuing Peter like he’d personally wronged them. “Gamora, if you’re here, now would be a really good time to - _oh_ \- ” In his haste to nail the last of the creatures in the head, Peter had tripped over a tree root and fell face-first into the ground, twisting his ankle in the process. He shouted in pain and began desperately crawling through the dirt because, _no_ , he refused to die, not here, not today -

 _Shnnnk_. He heard Gamora’s sword before he saw it, the telltale clang of metal as it sliced clean through the skull of the Vrellnexian that was stretching its jaw wide open just inches away from his throat, spraying inky black blood all over him. A beat of silence passed while the creature collapsed beside him with a _whump_. Gamora prodded it with her foot, rolling it over to check its pulse, before finally stashing her sword - an eighteenth birthday from Yondu - and kneeling by Peter’s side.

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” Gamora sighed. She reached into Peter’s bag to pull out a clean cloth and some gauze so she could clean and dress his wound.

“In my defense, I had no clue where you went, and I took out a bunch of ‘em myself,” Peter said with a relieved chuckle. It was then that he noticed a smear of blood across Gamora’s cheek, and he immediately began wiping it with his jacket sleeve in concern. “Hey, are you hurt?”

“They nipped at my ankles a little bit, but I’m faster than they are,” Gamora replied, reaching to briefly pat Peter’s hand. “Come on, let’s get back to the ship before the others find us. Herding Vrellnexians back to their territory will have to wait another day, when you _haven’t_ gone and gotten yourself injured.” Peter could only faintly protest as Gamora hoisted him up into her arms and carried him back through the brush.

Their beloved ship came into view not too long after, a beautiful (if a little dysfunctional) M-ship that Peter had painted orange and blue, and dubbed the _Milano_ after his first Terran crush, both dubious decisions in Gamora’s opinion. “I _would_ name it after you, but it’d be kinda weird, ‘cos then you’d be Gamora, captain of the _Gamora_ , you know?” Peter had reasoned apologetically.

“Co-captain, Peter. We didn’t work together all these years just to create a power imbalance between us, don’t you think?” she had insisted in return.

Gamora deposited Peter into his seat and briefly disappeared to get their first-aid kit, kneeling in front of him to properly tend to his injury. “We’ve been here for three days now. D’you really think we can do this?” Peter asked apprehensively. He watched as she cleaned and disinfected the gash in his leg with utmost precision, smiling at the way her nose scrunched up when she was concentrating. “Maybe we took on a bigger first job than we can handle. Shoulda started with somethin’ small.”

“What happened to your confidence, Peter?” Gamora looked up at him, settling back on her haunches. “You shouldn’t undersell our capabilities, you know. Yondu talked us up to the clients quite a bit when he delegated this job to us, we can’t go around doubting ourselves.”

“Not doubting, I guess, it just feels...weird. Not having all the other Ravagers around to back us up.” Peter smiled teasingly. “Though you and me, alone, on a ship of our own? I’ve had _dreams_ about this kind of thing.”

“Nothing _too_ suggestive, I hope,” Gamora replied, though there was a mischievous glint in her eyes that told him they were on the same page. “This ship isn’t exactly fast, efficient, or...clean.”

“But it’s home. _Our_ home.” Peter reached for her free hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “That’s gotta count for _something_ , right?”

“Of course, Peter. This is the future we’ve been talking about for years. One where we’re responsible, where we save people instead of hurt them,” Gamora said softly, resting her chin against his knee. Peter released her hand so he could gently rake his fingers through her hair, her eyes sliding closed at the sensation. “We just need to be patient. We need to be thoughtful. We need to prove that the last ten years we’ve lived don’t dictate the rest of our lives. We still carry the Ravager name, but that’s not who we are. We’re just...we’re us.”

Peter leaned forward to kiss her forehead, then let her go so she could return to her own seat opposite him. “Speakin’ of Ravagers, we should probably call him, let him know how it’s going.” Gamora nodded, gesturing for him to do so. He leaned over to activate the comms system, wincing as the feedback bounced off the walls of the cockpit. “Hey, old man. You gettin’ bored without us?”

“Life’s never been better,” Yondu shot back without missing a beat. “You won’t _believe_ how peaceful it is around here.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” Gamora said dryly, leaning back in her seat. “Oh, and we’ve had no luck with the Vrellnexians again today. They chewed through all of Peter’s traps and picked up on my fighting patterns.”

“They’re tricky, them Vrellnexians,” Yondu said, clicking his tongue in sympathy. “But you both got the grit to finish the job, doncha? And I didn’t spend all those years teachin’ you everything I know to have you back down when the going gets tough. You know how much bragging rights I got for the rest of my life, raisin’ the two youngest Ravager leaders in the history of the universe? _All_ of ‘em.”

“We’ll figure it out, Yondu, I promise,” Gamora replied. “We won’t let you down. We just need to rethink our strategy before we head out again. Also...Peter’s hurt.”

“What?” Yondu barked, the sheer volume of his shout causing the speaker to crackle with feedback. “How bad, boy?”

“Twisted my ankle a bit, gonna be okay. Gamora’s almost as good at patchin’ injuries as I am. _Almost_ ,” Peter said with a smirk. Gamora shook her head at him in bemusement. “Hey, we still on for dinner with you guys next week?”

“Gimme a date and time, and I’ll get you our coordinates,” Yondu instructed. “The boys are missing you both somethin’ fierce. Tullk’s got a whole load of stories to catch you up on, but don’t listen to any of ‘em, they’re nonsense.”

“We’ve only been gone for two months, Yondu, how much could we have possibly missed?” Gamora asked.

Yondu chuckled, and there was almost something melancholic in his voice as he did. “Oh, you know how it is. Anyways, you go finish that Vrellnexian job and tell me when you do, alright? Oblo needs a couple days to prepare his infamous stew. Gotta get the Eclector all nice and shined up, too, you kids are so picky about the floors.”

“So we got a problem with rust, just like everyone else,” Peter exclaimed with a laugh. “I bet we’ll be callin’ you tomorrow. Those Vrellnexians aren’t gonna know what hit ‘em.”

“I’m sure,” Yondu snorted. “Alright, I’ll let you go now. Proud of you.”

Peter and Gamora smiled. “Thanks, Yondu,” Gamora said quietly. “See you soon.”

After Yondu hung up, Peter leaned back in his seat with a satisfied sigh, carefully lifting up his injured leg to rest his ankle atop the ship’s console. “Can’t wait to get off this stupid planet. I had plans, you know. Plans that _didn’t_ involve chasing creepy aliens through a forest.”

Gamora looked at him disbelievingly. “Oh?”

“You, me, a nice beach somewhere. Or maybe somewhere cold, I dunno. Celebrate our freedom,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t really matter where we go, as long as it’s us, right?”

Her grin widened as she moved to sit on his armrest, leaning down to rest her forehead against his. “I’m inclined to agree.” Gamora tilted her head to kiss him sweetly, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her in closer. The moment Peter began to deepen the kiss, the comms system blared once more, indicating that they were receiving a distress signal.

“Um, hello? I hope this is the right ship, or this will be very awkward.” A small, almost meek voice resonated throughout the cabin. “I am looking for Peter Quill. This may sound strange, but I used to work for your father - well, he took me as a baby and I have known of nothing else - and recently escaped from his control. I was hoping to see if you could help talk some sense into him, or even take him out before he hurts anyone else. He has very bad plans for the universe, and I do not want him to succeed. Please, if you can do anything…”

Gamora broke the kiss, glancing at the screen curiously. “That sounds like far more of an emergency than the Vrellnexian problem,” she commented. “We should probably have some new plans. Do you think you’re ready to face your father, though?”

Peter reluctantly let her go, and Gamora sat back down in her own seat, tapping her way through the system to track the signal’s coordinates. “No, but...I’m not about to back down now. Let’s do this.” He reached across to squeeze Gamora’s hand and used the other to turn on the microphone. “This is Captain Quill and Captain Gamora of the _Milano_ , we hear you loud and clear. What can we do to help?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for this one! Peter and Gamora are off to meet Mantis for the first time, and I'm sure if I continued this, they would eventually meet the others along the way and become the Guardians we know and love. There are plenty of gaps between the years in which I could explore more of their Ravager adventures, but I've got plenty of other fic and prompts I should get working on.
> 
> Thank you to those who have read, kudoed, commented, liked, and/or reblogged this fic! This was an absolute delight to write and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed working on it :)


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